


Lost in the Woods

by Rabbitqueen, swizzlesticks



Series: All My Life Has Been a Series of Doors in My Face (And then Suddenly I Bumped Into You) [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I'm sure it'll be fine, M/M, Michael and Gerry are domestic, also Gerry makes friends!, also feat: Gerry's emotional constipation, and...some more enemies, but you'd be wrong, eventually, except when they're in mortal danger, feat: Michael's protective streak, not feat: good self-preservation skills, tags will be updated as chapters progress, you'd think a guy and his monster boyfriend could get a little downtime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbitqueen/pseuds/Rabbitqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swizzlesticks/pseuds/swizzlesticks
Summary: Gerry really, really does try to be careful. This time, the fact that everyone is out to get him isn’t actually his fault. He’s pretty sure.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael
Series: All My Life Has Been a Series of Doors in My Face (And then Suddenly I Bumped Into You) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042215
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	1. Five More Minutes?

Date nights have become a regular thing with Michael, ever since he discovered that Gerry enjoys rom-coms just as much as he does. Michael insists that they take turns choosing a movie, and the avatar always manages to bring an ungodly amount of popcorn with him. Gerry’s usually still finding the odd piece or two scattered through the flat well into the next week; it always manages to make him smile. Even though Michael practically lives with him at this point, it’s nice to see reminders of the avatar’s presence throughout his place. The funny thing is, Gerry’s not even sure Michael _eats_ , at all (aside from presumably whatever fear he needs to sustain himself). And yet the popcorn keeps coming.

Tonight, it’s Michael’s pick; he chose Mamma Mia when Gerry mentioned offhand that he’d never seen it, and he’s been humming the songs ever since. He comes up behind Gerry, wrapping an arm around his waist and humming in his ear as Gerry’s throwing out the packaging from the microwaved pop-tarts he’d had for dinner. The sound tickles his brain.

“Almost ready?” Michael produces an endless bowl of popcorn, seemingly out of nowhere. “I promise you’ll like it.”

Gerry laughs, twisting to kiss him. “You must really like this one, you’ve been impatient all day.” He brushes his hands off over the garbage and turns to kiss Michael properly. “ _Now_ I’m ready.”

Michael grins, taking Gerry’s hand and tugging him over to the couch. He lets Gerry sit first, then curls up next to him, winding a too-long arm around his shoulder. Gerry can feel him buzzing with excitement. “The music is very...catchy,” he warns Gerry with a wide smile, and Gerry smirks.

“I’ve yet to come across a song that you can’t manage to drive out of my head.” He teases. “So maybe it’ll be a first.”

Michael laughs, kissing him before settling against his side once again as the movie starts.

They’re halfway through watching, and Gerry’s still trying to make sense of the plot when Michael suddenly shudders, heat haze twisting the air around him, and Gerry looks at him in alarm.

“Are you alright?”

Michael’s face splits in a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Mm, yes. And no.” The edges of his smile curl. “Just some...indigestion.”

“You…” Gerry winces as Knowing trickles into his mind. It’s more of a slow drip than the steady stream it had been, but it still happens. The best he can do is try to direct it _around_ Michael rather than at him. “Jude Perry?” He guesses hastily before the Knowledge properly solidifies, keeping the Eye’s gaze on Michael blurred.

Michael nods, idly carving a spiral into Gerry’s coffee table. “She’s not going down as easily as I’d hoped.” He shrugs, jerking the air around him into motion. “She can’t burn forever, though. Her flames will suffocate eventually.”

Gerry hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder. “But...that can’t be comfortable for you in the meantime?”

“What is comfort, really?” Michael evades, avoiding Gerry’s eyes as he covers Gerry’s hand with his. 

“That... isn’t really an answer.” Gerry leans up to give him a kiss. “Is there anything I can do?”

Michael kisses him back, making his lips tingle. “This certainly helps.” He leans in to kiss Gerry again, and Gerry can feel heat radiating off of him as he shivers again. 

“It’s _hurting_ you, though.” It isn’t a question this time, and Gerry cups Michael’s cheek. “There has to be something, can’t you get rid of her somehow? Find her a door?”

Michael hums noncommittally. “She could find a door. But I…” A wave of dizziness hits Gerry when Michael meets his eyes. “I can’t let her out near here. And I don’t want to leave.”

Gerry feels a smile tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want you to leave either, but more than that, I want you to be ok.” He kisses Michael again, riding out the buzzing it causes in his head. “I’ll be here when you get back.” He says gently.

Michael pouts. “I _could_ be fine.” His face presses into Gerry’s shoulder. “I don’t know how long it will take. I’ll probably drop her in the ocean.” Michael’s grin cuts into him slightly. “I hear the Mariana Trench is lovely this time of year.”

Gerry laughs. “Just don’t drop her near any coral reefs. I hear rising ocean temperatures are a real problem these days.”

Michael’s giggle is a tolling bell, leaving Gerry’s ears ringing. “I’ll make sure to leave her somewhere far away from any life. Or as far as is possible.” He kisses Gerry. “Maybe there’s a nice shipwreck somewhere.”

Gerry grins and kisses him back. “Watch out for sea mines too, ok?”

“If I see some, I’ll be sure to drop her onto one and be safely behind my door before it explodes.”

“Sounds about right.” Gerry carefully tangles one of his hands in Michael’s hair, stroking it away from the man’s face. “Give ‘em hell, I guess?”

Michael’s fingers trail over Gerry’s cheek. “I will. You’ll be careful?” The worry in his voice is clear. “The Lightless Flame may still be looking for you, even without Perry.”

“I’ll be careful.” Gerry offers him a crooked smile. “All evidence to the contrary, I do know how. I’ll make sure I steer clear of them.”

Michael laughs, kissing Gerry again before pulling away. “I’ll...I’ll be back, then.”

“Ancient Aliens is on at 8 on Friday, don’t be late.” Gerry teases, although he is reluctant to let the man go. There’s no telling how long Michael will actually be gone. Michael seems just as hesitant to leave, making no move to go, and instead twining his fingers with Gerry’s. 

Gerry kisses the man’s fingertips with extreme caution before glancing up at him. “...I suppose Jude can wait just a few more minutes. If you want.”

Michael’s answering smile sends a shiver down his spine. “I’m sure she can.” He crowds into Gerry’s space, kissing him hard, and Gerry grins, glad Michael had understood his meaning. He leans back into the couch, already reeling slightly as he pulls Michael closer. Michael follows eagerly, his lips soft and cutting against Gerry’s, and Gerry kisses him back enthusiastically, losing himself in sensation.

Gerry’s taken acid before, and sex with Michael isn’t anything like it, but there’s nothing else he can compare it to. His senses betray him one by one, and Gerry revels in it, participating as best he can while his mind shatters into impossible branching twists, and wave after sensory wave rolls over him, grounded only by Michael’s touch. He comes back to himself sometime after, still somewhat dazed as Michael idly traces fractals on Gerry’s chest, cautiously avoiding the eye tattoo still over his heart. It’s covered with makeup, but no doubt Michael can feel its gaze anyway; it never did stop looking around of its own volition. His hair tickles Gerry’s chin when it moves and curls unsettlingly, and Gerry smiles drowsily and kisses the top of Michael’s head. 

“Hey.”

Michael twists to smile up at him. “Hello.” Spindly fingers press against Gerry’s cheek. “How are you?”

Gerry hums, leaning into his touch. “M’good.” He finds it immensely endearing that Michael checks that he’s alright after they do this. “How was it for you?”

“Hmmm…” Michael taps his chin. “Effervescent, I think.” He grins, stretching to press a kiss to Gerry’s lips, and Gerry can’t help but laugh. He’s gotten used to Michael’s unconventional descriptions, but ‘effervescent’ makes him imagine having sex in a champagne bottle.

“As long as ‘effervescent’ works for you.” He says, and gives Michael a long kiss, still smirking. Michael’s laugh reverberates through his skull, and after a moment he pulls away to curl against Gerry’s side, humming contentedly.

For a long time, Gerry’s content to stay just like that--in fact if they could stay like this forever he’d be perfectly happy with the arrangement. But after a while (once his brain finally starts working at full power again) he can’t help but be distracted by the unnatural warmth of Michael’s body against his.

“Do you...are you running a fever?” Gerry finally asks, pulling Michael a little bit closer.

“Mm?” Michael blinks up at him. “I...don’t know if I _can_.” He seems flummoxed by the possibility. “Why?”

“You seem...warm. More than usual.” Gerry gives him a small smile. “I’d offer you a tylenol but with your physiology who knows what you’d turn it into.”

Michael giggles. “Something terrible, I’m sure.” He sighs, burying his face in Gerry’s side, and Gerry strokes his hair, watching with interest as it curls up to ensnare his hand.

“Is it...Jude?” He finally asks, hesitantly.

Michael goes still; he doesn’t speak, but it’s answer enough, and Gerry curls around him, kissing his head again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep...I’m just worried.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Michael mumbles, holding him tighter.

“I know.” Gerry strokes Michael’s cheek with his thumb. “I’d come with you, if I could.”

Michael sighs loudly. “I know…” Gerry is amused by how _petulant_ he sounds. “Maybe I can wait just a little longer?”

Gerry laughs softly. “Would that make it easier?”

“No,” Michael grumbles, hair writhing. “But I--if you get in trouble, I don’t know if I'll be able to help.” He hesitates. “I am afraid,” he admits quietly.

Gerry blinks, surprised by the admission. “Of...of what?”

“Of the _danger_ that always seems to find you.” Michael looks up; his eyes, usually so hard to read, are clearly full of fear. “Or that _you_ find.” 

Gerry doesn’t have a good answer for that, so he just pulls Michael close, pressing his face into the crook of the man’s neck. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ve got plenty to do in the apartment, and the cafe and the grocery store are both pretty tame.” He pulls back, but just so he can kiss Michael carefully. “I won’t go looking for trouble while you’re gone.”

“Promise?” Michael brushes his fingers through Gerry’s hair; there are more points of contact than should be possible.

“I promise.” Gerry kisses him again, hoping Michael can read his sincerity. Michael kisses back desperately, before pulling Gerry into a tight embrace.

“I’ll be back soon, ok?” Michael presses another quick kiss to his lips, neon tears staining his cheeks. “I love you. Please take care of yourself.” 

“I—” Gerry’s thrown, both by Michael’s obvious distress and by what he’d just said. He can’t remember the last time someone had told him ‘I love you,’ and certainly he hadn’t had cause to say it since he was a child. But now—Michael’s said it, and by the time Gerry wraps his mind around that, the man is already gone, and Gerry’s left staring at a blank section of wall without having answered him.


	2. Coffee Dates and Danger Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerry makes a tactical error. Featuring a Tim Stoker cameo.

In Gerry’s defense, he  _ is _ careful. But Michael being gone gives him the exact opportunity he’d needed to pursue getting his last tattoo removed. Which, in a way, is exactly what Michael had said to do. ‘Take care of yourself’ is a pretty vague statement. Technically speaking, finishing the act of cutting himself off from the Ceaseless Watcher  _ could _ qualify as self-care. Or whatever. Point is, Gerry knows he can’t get the tattoo removed when Michael’s around. If the fallout from last time is anything to go by, Gerry won’t be able to guarantee he won’t hurt any bystanders, and he doesn’t want to See Michael. He honestly doesn’t know what that would do to the avatar, but he’s certain it wouldn’t be good.

All the same, Gerry’s sure that calling the Magnus institute wasn’t quite what Michael had in mind.

Gerry had met Gertrude, years ago. Given his line of work, it was bound to happen eventually, and they’d finally run into each other at a storage unit that had held a few too many Leitners for comfort. He’d been much more surprised to see the old woman with a remote detonator than she’d seemed to see him, despite the fact that he’d been carrying enough gasoline in old plastic waterbottles that he could have burnt down half a city block.

They’d connected a few times after that. In some ways, Gertrude reminds Gerry of his mum. It’s almost certainly what had kept him from saying yes when she’d asked him if he’d wanted a job at the Magnus Institute. The money would have been nice, but he’d only just found his freedom, and he wasn’t willing to give it up so easily, even if he still doesn’t really know what to do with it.

Gertrude doesn’t pick up the phone when he calls, which leaves Gerry struggling to leave a voicemail that includes all the details he wants without saying too much else. Whatever’s going on at the Magnus Institute, Gerry really doesn’t want to get mixed up in it any more than he already has. Elias gives him the creeps, and frankly the further he stays away from the Eye, given Michael’s...everything, the better off they’ll probably both be.

“Hi, Gertrude, it’s...Gerard Keay. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask. Doesn’t even involve gasoline. Uh, call me back, or don’t, I assume you know where to find me.” He rubs his face. That’s a little  _ too _ vague. “You were right, turns out those eye tattoos weren’t such a great idea after all. I’ve just about got it sorted, but I’d like to do it properly, and I need a second set of hands. Sounds more drastic than it is. I’ll swap you for a few statements about my mum.”

He hangs up, and frowns at the phone. He kind of hates leaving voicemails.

Still, now there’s nothing to do but wait. He pokes around the apartment a bit, and then does some light research down at the cafe, flipping through a book that’s mostly nonsense but has some details on the Orsinovs that he hasn’t seen elsewhere. It’s almost engrossing enough for him to ignore the handsome man a few tables away who keeps shooting him thunderous looks. Normally Gerry might ask the guy what his problem is, but he  _ had _ promised Michael he’d be careful, so instead he finds himself slipping the book back into his bag sooner than he normally would, tossing out his empty paper cup, and meandering back to the apartment. What the hell, it’s a nice enough day.

Back at the apartment, he drops his keys by the door with a huge yawn and is halfway through unlacing his boots when there’s a loud knock, and he stiffens. For a moment, there’s silence, and he just listens, straining for some idea who’s there. Now that he’s paying attention, he can feel the electric tingle of one of the powers, and that’s probably  _ not _ a good sign. Unless it’s Gertrude. And even then…

He loops the laces of his boots back around his calves, tying them hurriedly without properly lacing them, and heads for the window. He can get out these windows. He knows he can, because he’d tested it; sometimes paranoia comes in handy. If it really is Gertrude, she should have called first. He can apologize later, something about this doesn’t feel right to him. 

He winces as the knock comes again--only this time it’s less of a  _ knock _ . Two loud bangs echo through the apartment before the door flies inward, splintering on its hinges and revealing two large, blockish forms standing in the hallway. Gerry’s stomach does a somersault, and he turns, making a break for the windows. He has no interest in tangling with Breekon  _ or _ Hope, let alone both of them. He doesn’t make it far though, skidding to a halt as a vaguely humanoid shape peels itself from the shadows behind the refrigerator.

_ No, no,  _ fuck _ no. _

He’s always  _ hated _ the Not things. Sure, all of the powers are frightening, that’s the point, but the Not things properly scare him. His mum had been a little too friendly with one that had lived in Chiswick when he’d been young, and the looks it had given him had been hungry enough that he’s kept an eye out for them ever since. The Not thing steps closer, and Gerry looks quickly between it and the figures in the doorway. Outside his window he can see a few people on the street, standing much too still and staring in his windows. The Stranger is here in force, but...why? Gerry hasn’t done anything to annoy the stranger--honestly Michael’s powers are close enough to the Stranger that it’s hardly been on his radar as an active danger recently.

Still, he knows better than to waste time questioning  _ why _ it’s happening. Without a word, he grabs a floor lamp, swinging it hard at the window and shattering both window and lamp on impact. The Not thing lunges at him, and Gerry cries out as its hand closes over his forearm. He can see his form rippling up its empty shape, seeping out of him like oil wicking into paper, and he jerks away with a curse, hurling himself through the window. He doesn’t make it all the way, and the broken glass cuts his hands, tearing a long, jagged gash along his side when he’s brought up short. Something has a grip on his ankle, and it drags him back into the apartment over the broken glass, forcing a short, strangled scream from him and pulling off his left boot.

“Miss Orsinov says she has a meeting with you.”

“Don’t want to keep Miss Orsinov waiting.”

Gerry shudders in surprised pain as one of the huge deliverymen grabs him bodily off the floor, but he’s too stubborn to give up so quickly, and grabs at a wooden chair with his bloody hands, twisting and swinging it hard against the deliveryman’s form. Unsurprisingly, the chair loses, breaking apart without even seeming to sway the Stranger, who lifts him into his arms like Gerry’s a child, despite his struggling, and presses a cloyingly sweet rag over his face. He recognizes the scent of formaldehyde and panic finally sweeps over him. He kicks and struggles hard, reflecting hazily that this is probably exactly  _ why _ they’re drugging him. 

...But fuck, did it  _ have _ to be embalming fluid?

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you playing along at home, the middle of Mamma Mia is the song 'man after midnight.' Do with that information what you will


End file.
